


i know, i have to go

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2018 [10]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Brief Profanity, Character Death, Death, Drama, Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Markus says a hard goodbye.





	i know, i have to go

**Author's Note:**

> So... I don't usually apologize for what I write, but, uh...
> 
> I am _so_ sorry.

  
Markus got the call in the early evening of December 18 th:  
  
[ _Carl is in the hospital._  
  
_You should come._ ]  
  
It was from Trevor, Carl’s current caretaker android.  
  
Markus knew that this call would be coming soon, but…  
  
“Markus?” North was looking at him strangely. “Are you alright? You look like someone just pulled your pump regulator out.” It was just a metaphor, just an indicator that Markus looked as though he’d been injured and that maybe his skin was losing some of its color from the lack of blood, but it captured the actual _feeling_ in him in a way that no other physical injury could have.  
  
“I-”  
  
His HUD began to fizz, static covering his vision for a moment.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 80%]**  
  
“I- I have to go. I have to go.” Markus turned and strode out of the office and went for the stairs, not making eye-contact with North or Josh or Simon, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer their questions and more importantly he had to get to the hospital quickly, because Trevor had warned him that once Carl was bad enough to be brought there that he would have limited time left and that he would need to hurry, and Markus was already calculating that it would take about half an hour to get there, he didn’t know how much _time_ he had-  
  
“Markus!” Once they’d cleared the stairs, Simon swerved to walk beside him. “What’s going on? Is it Carl?”  
  
Markus didn’t look at him, just nodded. “He’s in this hospital.”  
  
“Oh, Markus, I’m sorry.”  
  
Simon’s stress was probably going up too. He was one of the few people Markus really talked about Carl to, and he was- to Markus’s knowledge- the only person in Jericho who’d actually met him, even stayed over at Carl’s house after the evacuation. Markus had explained to Carl that, due to a damaged biocomponent, Simon had a peculiar hypersensitivity to the cold, making winters miserable for him, and asked if his friend could maybe take shelter there for a while.  
  
“ _Ohh_ ,” Carl had said, a grin unfurling over his face. “He’s a _friend_ , huh?”  
  
“Yes, Carl,” Markus had said dryly, “Just a friend.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Carl had said, nodding easily. “If that’s what you’re calling it, okay.” He’d said that if Simon was such a good _friend_ , then he was welcome to stay over for a while and get warm.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“What’s he gonna do, eat all my food and piss on the carpet? And don’t say ‘yes’, smartass, I know androids can’t piss.”  
  
Markus remembered that, remembered how pleasantly alert Carl had been and how he’d hoped that maybe it was just a bad spell and that Carl would recover and that he would have a few more years, just a few more years to keep-  
  
“Do you want me to come?” Simon asked, halting the downward spiral into panic that Markus had been starting on.  
  
“You don’t have to.”  
  
“I will if you’ll let me.”  
  
Markus would never say Simon couldn’t come. He’d only known Carl for a little while, but it was obvious that Simon had grown fond of him, and he deserved to be a part of this if he could be.  
  
And besides, Markus wasn’t sure he could do it alone.  
  
[---]  
  
It took exactly thirty-nine minutes and seventeen seconds to get to the hospital.  
  
Every moment that dragged past his projections saw Markus’s stress-levels rising steadily. Simon kept one hand in his for the duration of the journey, squeezing and rubbing it gently as he tried to keep Markus calm. He didn’t speak, didn’t beg Markus to calm down, didn’t try to ply him with useless platitudes about how maybe it really wasn’t that serious, that maybe Carl would pull through it; he just stayed quiet and calm and _there_ , and Markus was so glad he’d come.  
  
“ _You have reached your destination. Thank you for traveling with Detroit Taxis. We look forward to-_ ”  
  
Markus was already out of the taxi and going for the hospital, Simon moving quickly to keep up with him, still holding his hand. They stepped into the lobby, and Markus made a beeline for the desk. “Excuse me,” He said, flagging down a receptionist android behind the desk, “Can you direct me to Carl Manfred’s room?”  
  
She regarded him calmly. “Is he expecting you?”  
  
“He should be.”  
  
She was quiet for a moment, and then said, “Room 405, fourth floor.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
They went to the elevator, and once they were inside and the doors were shut, Markus regretted it. Having to stand still while the elevator made its slow ascent was a form of hell he hadn’t been anticipating. It was like being in the car again, all nervous energy and no place to put it, but this time he could smell the hospital around him and it made it so much worse.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 85%]**  
  
“You don’t have to stay,” Markus whispered, voice growing mechanical, crackling and fizzing at the edges; stress meant that biocomponents were overheated, including an android’s voice-box, and Markus was seriously stressed enough now that there was a noticeable alteration to his voice. “I don’t want to put you through that, you already did that once.” Simon’s charge, a little boy named Aaron, had passed away not long before Simon had gone deviant, and Markus didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay in a situation that might re-traumatize him.  
  
But Simon shook his head, squeezed Markus’s hand. “No. I’ll stay until you tell me you don’t want me here anymore.”  
  
Markus shut his eyes, felt tears forming.  
  
“I’ll never not want you here.”  
  
Simon squeezed his hand again, leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I know it’s hard,” he said quietly, “I know it’s not as easy as just saying it. But try to calm down a little. It’ll be good for you, and Carl certainly won’t want you to be too upset.”  
  
Markus nodded, squeezing Simon’s hand and trying to breathe, trying to bring in enough air to cool his systems down. He was right, it was hard, and there was no chance that he was getting anywhere below sixty percent tonight, but he could at least try to get himself out of red territory. He’d be in danger of overheating and hurting himself, and he didn’t intend to leave Carl’s side tonight.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 75%]**  
  
It was the best he could do for now.  
  
[---]  
  
The first person they saw was Trevor.  
  
He was standing outside the room, arms crossed, LED blue. He saw them coming and perked up. “Oh, good, you’re here,” He remarked, and Markus was immediately relieved: Trevor would have been more visibly upset or disturbed by Markus’s appearance if he’d thought he was going to be the bearer of bad news. “Leo’s in with him now. He wanted to have a private conversation with him, so I stepped out.”  
  
Markus swallowed. “How… What’s the situation?”  
  
Trevor’s smile faded, and Markus’s heart sank. “It’s not good, Markus.”  
  
“He’s…”  
  
Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, and then nodded. “Within the next twenty-four hours… Maximum.”  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 80%]**  
  
Markus felt a sudden dizziness come over him. There were components that controlled an android’s ability to balance, much like a human’s inner ear, and it was going on the fritz now- it, and his vision, and his hearing, and his pump-regulator-  
  
“Markus, Markus, sit,” Simon helped him onto a bench near the door. Markus bent over, head falling into his hands.  
  
He couldn’t lose it.  
  
He couldn’t lose it, not yet, not when he hadn’t even seen Carl yet. Simon was right when he’d said Carl wouldn’t want to see him upset.  
  
“Did Leo know we were coming?” He heard Simon ask Trevor quietly, hand rubbing up and down Markus’s back.  
  
“I told him.”  
  
“Is he… Amicable?”  
  
“As far as I can tell. He didn’t object.”  
  
Markus straightened up. “You’re sure about that?”  
  
“He didn’t object,” Trevor repeated.  
  
Simon’s gaze slid to Markus uncertainly. He knew about Markus’s last encounter with a drug-fueled Leo that had ended with Markus being shot by police- the very incident that had led to Markus’s deviancy, and to Jericho. Markus had had no contact with Leo since that night, and while Markus knew Leo claimed to be clean again (apparently knocking his head in a bit had done him some good), he didn’t know how he’d react to seeing Markus again.  
  
“Well,” Markus muttered, voice gravelly. “He’ll have to get over it if he does, because I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
They waited outside the room for twenty minutes, each dragging into the next. Markus focused on the feel of Simon’s hand on his back, on counting the tiles on the floor and ceiling until the door creaked open again.  
  
Leo… He looked better. He didn’t look high, and he didn’t look anxious either. He’d lost that twitchy, restless demeanor that was so common in Red Ice addicts, and when he realized that Markus was there, he didn’t react very strongly at all.  
  
His eyes were red, but Markus doubted that drugs had anything to do with it.  
  
“Oh,” Leo muttered. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Markus said, standing up slowly. For a moment, they stared at each other silently, sizing each other up. Leo didn’t look like he wanted a fight; he looked upset, but not at Markus. Eventually, Markus relaxed a little, and broke the silence. “This is Simon,” He said, nodding slightly to Simon.  
  
“Friend?”  
  
“Uh…” He was rarely called upon to define his relationship with Simon. “…Boyfriend, I guess.”  
  
Simon raised an eyebrow at Markus. “You _guess?_ ”  
  
“It sounds _weird._ ”  
  
“It gets the point across!”  
  
Leo’s lips quivered a little, but he didn’t laugh.  
  
“Come on in.”  
  
[---]  
  
Carl was…  
  
Carl was…  
  
He didn’t look terrible.  
  
He didn’t look _good_ either.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 82%]**  
  
“Hey, boys,” Carl said, voice a croak but still with a painful amount of personality in it. “You been here long?”  
  
“No, not long,” Simon assured, stepping up to the bed without hesitation and gently embracing Carl as best he could. Carl returned the embrace with shaking arms that couldn’t tighten very well.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 85%]**  
  
Carl smiled at Markus. “C’mere,” he said.  
  
Markus stepped forward and did the same as Simon, pressing close but trying not to press too hard. “Hi,” he mumbled, not sure what else to say.  
  
When he pulled back, Carl looked to the others. “I’m sorry, I know I just let you all back in, but, uh… You guys mind if I talk to Markus alone for a minute?”  
  
“Sure, dad,” Leo said quietly.  
  
“Not a problem,” Trevor assured.  
  
Simon reached out, gave Markus’s elbow a quick squeeze.  
  
[ _Breathe, Markus._ ]  
  
Markus tried, but it got harder when the door shut and the silence became too obvious.  
  
“Take a seat, Markus.”  
  
Markus sat. Given the proximity of this particular chair to the bed, he assumed that it was the one Leo had been sitting in when he’d been speaking with Carl alone. He couldn’t quite look at Carl, fearing his stress-level would jump higher and put him in danger of overloading.  
  
Or weeping like a baby.  
  
Whichever came first.  
  
“Markus, come on, look at me.”  
  
Markus’s gaze inched up and up until he was looking Carl in the eye. Carl smiled that old, familiar smile, and Markus-  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 89%]**  
  
“Not quite sure what to say, huh?”  
  
Markus shook his head. “No,” he whispered.  
  
“Then say what you feel,” Carl suggested simply. “Whatever you need to. You won’t hurt me.”  
  
“I don’t-” Markus clamped his mouth shut when his voice came out in that warped, static-filled way that announced his distress.  
  
“You want me to go first?”  
  
Markus nodded wordlessly.  
  
Carl sighed. “Well, Markus… I don’t know how well you remember the beginning. I don’t know if you remember what an absolute _ass_ I was to you.”  
  
Markus did, actually. He’d had no opinion on it at the time, for all the world a compliant and obedient android. Even in retrospect, deviant and free in all ways it still didn’t bother him. “You were bitter about the accident. About not being able to walk anymore.”  
  
“Mostly I was bitter about the lack of independence,” Carl agreed, “It was bad enough getting old, but now I had to be the stereotypical feeble old man who had to be carted around by some young caretaker android with a Stepford smile.” He smirked a little. “The difference between you and a human caretaker is that you knew better than to patronize me.”  
  
Markus let out a short, strained laugh. “If I hadn’t, you would have taught me.”  
  
“You’re goddamn right I would have,” Carl remarked. “Feeble old man or not, I still had a brain. I still had a life. And you… You _got_ that. Never once did I get the idea that you were handling me with kid gloves, and I liked that. At first I thought Elijah was just damn good at what he did, or that maybe he’d custom-designed you to be someone I wouldn’t try to strangle in their sleep.” Markus let out another little laugh, a little less strained this time. “But eventually… Eventually I figured out that that was just _you._ More time we spent together, the more I got to see the little quirks in you: The little habits, the preferences, the things that androids supposedly don’t have. I started to figure out that there was more going on in your head than just some line of code that said ‘take care of the old man’. You weren’t a typical android; you were special.”  
  
Markus sniffed, shrugged a little. “I didn’t deviate until the night with Leo.”  
  
“No,” Carl agreed, “But I don’t hold with this idea that deviancy is a… A _virus_ , or an error in your coding. I saw feeling in you long before that night. I saw individuality. I saw these little things coming through, and I couldn’t just treat you like some mindless machine after I saw it. I saw it in the early days, and I saw it even more as time went on. You were always a person to me, even if nobody else saw it.”  
  
Markus’s hand snaked up to take his. “I know. You were always good to me, always looked after me, always…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “You always loved me, didn’t you?”  
  
“Of course I love you,” Carl said with a wide, weak smile. “You’re my _son_ , just like Leo’s my son. You’re my son.” He squeezed Markus’s hand tightly, with what little strength he had. “I’m so proud of you, Markus, and all that you’ve accomplished. So proud.”  
  
Markus made an awful, choked sound, tears streaming down his face. He got up, leaned forward into Carl, pressed his face into his shoulder, and Carl’s hand came up to rub his back.  
  
“Shhh,” He whispered. “It’s alright. I told you humans are fragile machines. So easily broken.”  
  
“It’s too soon,” Markus croaked. He had so much he’d wanted to share with Carl. He’d had so much he’d wanted to do with him in the world he was helping to make, wanted to go out with him without having to wear the former identifying accessories that were required for androids, had wanted to be able to go out as a _person_ with Carl and show him all of the things Carl had taught him to be, wanted him to see what he’d become because of his love.  
  
_This is not fair,_ Markus thought, mirroring the words that had run through his head the night Leo had attacked him, _this is not **fair.**_  
  
But this time there was nothing Markus could do about it.  
  
They sat like that for a while, Markus weeping softly into Carl’s shoulder and Carl trying to comfort him. Eventually, Markus composed himself enough that he could stop crying, and he gently pulled away from Carl, sitting back up again. “I love you, Carl,” He said, wiping the tears from his face. “And I’m grateful for… For everything. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”  
  
Carl smiled. “I love you too, Markus.”  
  
Markus nodded. “I should let the others back in.”  
  
“You do that.”  
  
[---]  
  
Carl was awake for a while.  
  
He spoke with them all for as long as he could, particularly Simon and Trevor after sending them out for so long, and for a painful amount of time, it was so _normal._ Carl was just not feeling well and had to stay in the bed for the day, had to take what rare, limited visitors he had from bed. Everything was fine.  
  
Except that it wasn’t.  
  
Being in the same room with Leo was weird. Markus did not, for the life of him, recall a time when he’d ever had a normal, easy conversation with the man. They didn’t speak to each other- they had no reason to- but occasionally Markus caught Leo looking at him, and sometimes he felt compelled to watch him too, like two unfamiliar dogs eyeing each other through a fence. But there was a curious lack of tension between them, and Markus wasn’t going to question that just yet.  
  
Eventually, Carl said he was tired.  
  
Eventually, he fell asleep.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 93%]**  
  
The hours ticked by.  
  
It was the first time in weeks that Markus had not been running himself ragged, the first time he’d gone a significant period of time without thinking about tomorrow’s meeting or the next proposal for enacting laws and rights on behalf of androids since he’d joined Jericho. The first time in weeks, and of course, that time was being spent in a state of persistent misery, waiting for Carl to die.  
  
Markus didn’t leave his side. He kept one hand on Carl’s throughout the night, watched the rise and fall of his chest, hoping beyond all logic and knowledge that it would continue and agonized knowing that it would eventually stop. Leo sat on the opposite side of the bed, hand resting on Carl’s other hand; a few times it looked like he would nod off, but then he would jerk awake and look, panicked, at the heart-monitor to confirm that Carl was still alive.  
  
“He’s alright,” Markus said quietly as he watched the panic bleed slowly from Leo’s eyes.  
  
Leo nodded. “Right,” he mumbled. “Right.”  
  
“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”  
  
Leo ran a hand down his face. “Uh… Fuck. Woke up at four AM, so I’m closing in on twenty-four hours.” He shook his head. “Just- wake me up if I pass out, alright? I don’t want to sleep.”  
  
“I know. I’ll wake you if I have to.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
They settled in again.  
  
Time crept on.  
  
[---]  
  
At 4:00 AM, the rhythmic beats from the heart-monitor grew slower.  
  
At 4:24 AM, Simon pulled a chair over, right up beside Markus’s, and held his free hand.  
  
At 4:56 AM, the doctor came in, did a brief examination, and looked around at them all solemnly before stepping out again.  
  
At 5:15 AM, the beeping got downright sluggish.  
  
At 5:25 AM, they all knew it was coming.  
  
And at 5:32 AM, December 19 th, Carl Manfred took his last breath.  
  
[---]  
  
They didn’t leave the hospital until nearly seven AM.  
  
Markus was dazed. Simon and Trevor didn’t speak, just quietly stood nearby if he needed them. Leo was the one who dealt with the doctors, muttering about Carl’s wishes regarding the funeral home and other arrangements. Afterwards, though, when Carl’s body had been removed and the doctors were gone, Leo turned to Markus and cleared his throat.  
  
“He left you the house.”  
  
Leo said it matter-of-factly, and Markus stared at him.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
“He left you the house. I got money and a few paintings,” He gave a little shrug. “You got the house, and a bunch of the paintings- probably some money too. But I didn’t know where you guys were going after this, so if you were going to go to the house… I mean, you can. It’s yours.” He nodded to Trevor. “He left you some money too. Pretty sure it was payment for you looking after him.”  
  
“Thank you,” Trevor said quietly.  
  
“And Markus,” Leo began, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m, uh… I’m sorry about the whole- The thing, you know. I was high as a kite, and- I mean, you know as well as dad does- _did_ \- what I got like when I was like that. I was jealous that dad was with you more, but I mean, hey, that was my fault, I was the asshole who spent my time getting, high, so…” The corner of Leo’s mouth twitched upward briefly. “Kinda deserved getting my head knocked in a bit.”  
  
Markus managed a small smile in return. “Just a little.” Hesitantly, he reached out and clapped Leo’s shoulder. It took a minute to find the right words. “Thank you, Leo. And I’m… I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I just wanted you to stop pushing me.”  
  
Leo finally smiled, and clapped Markus’s shoulder back. “Yeah, I figured.” The parted, stepped away from one another. “Look, if you need anything, just… I mean, you can call if you want.”  
  
“Thank you, Leo. And I return the offer: If you need anything, call.”  
  
“Thanks.” Leo left, and it was a relief to have cleared the air as they had.  
  
“You can come back with us if you want, Trevor,” Markus said.  
  
Trevor smiled gently. “Thank you, Markus. But I have a few friends here at the hospital, and I might… I might stick around for a bit.” That made sense; clearly he was as upset over this as anyone else, and maybe had his own Simon somewhere in the hospital that he wanted to be with for a while.  
  
Markus nodded, but then stepped forward and pulled Trevor into a hug. “Thank you for looking after him,” He mumbled, voice crackling again, “Thank you for taking care of him even when you didn’t have to.”  
  
Trevor returned the hug. “It wasn’t a problem at all. He was a good man.”  
  
Markus squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
“Yes, he was.”  
  
[---]  
  
Markus and Simon went back to the house.  
  
The idea of going to Carl’s home was undesirable, he was too raw- but the only thing worse than going home and being in a place that radiated _Carl_ would be going back to Jericho and being surrounded by people demanding his time and attention.  
  
“I contacted North,” Simon said quietly as the cab carried them to the house. “She, Josh, and Chloe will take care of things.”  
  
“Okay.” He hated to put Chloe, the sweet faced RT600 that had been the first of their kind, in the position of having to moderate Josh and North’s squabbles, but they’d been doing a little better on that front lately and she seemed capable of handling herself. She’d survived Elijah Kamski, after all.  
  
“What’s your stress-level, Markus?”  
  
“Eighty-five percent.”  
  
Simon shook his head. “And you’ve been that or higher for over twelve hours. You need to cool down before you hurt yourself.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I mean it. When we get to the house you need to set a diagnostic going and then power-down. You could have some damage to your wiring.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Simon was looking at him worriedly, and Markus knew it probably didn’t help that he wasn’t arguing, wasn’t bantering with him. Any and all energy he had right now was dedicated to managing his stress as best he could.   
  
The cab arrived eventually. The security system still recognized Markus as a member of the house, and they entered without issue. Markus stared numbly at the foyer, at the android birds in the cage, at the familiar carpeting on the stairs, at the spotless floor as Simon awkwardly got his jacket off and hung it up on the hanger.  
  
Home.  
  
They were home.  
  
“Come on,” Simon said gently. “You need to power down.”  
  
Markus was quiet for a moment.  
  
“I will. Just… Just give me a second.”  
  
Markus’s body seemed to move without his consent, feet carrying him into the living room, then into the studio. Simon didn’t follow, probably taking stock of the state of the house. Markus didn’t know why he was going into the studio, didn’t know what it was that compelled him to come back to the only place in the house that would hurt more than Carl’s bedroom, but he flicked the lights on and drew the curtains back to let the early-morning light into the room.  
  
The smell of it was so familiar. The smell of paint, of adhesive and cleaning materials brought back so many memories, _too_ many memories. They said that smell was one of the most powerful triggers for memory on humans, and from this alone Markus was starting to think that the same was true for androids. It was surreal, downright maddening to look at the splatters of paint on the floor, some of which he could remember _exactly_ when they’d come to be, and know that they were the end of it, that Carl would not be flicking his brush too hard, or dropping the palette, or deliberately doing large, messy strokes for effect…  
  
Something caught Markus’s eye.  
  
It was painting on one of the work-tables. It was face-down, and it looked as though someone- maybe Carl, probably Trevor- had been getting ready to put it in a special casing, to protect it from damage if it were to fall from a wall or be bumped or scratched accidentally. Curious, Markus flipped it over.  
  
It was the colors he recognized first.  
  
( _Do something for me. Close your eyes._ )  
  
And then the face.  
  
( _Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist, something you’ve never seen._ )  
  
Humanity.  
  
( _Now concentrate on how it makes you feel._ )  
  
Comfort.  
  
( _Oh my God._ )  
  
Carl.  
  
Markus had painted Carl that day, in warm colors that had reflected the warmth of Markus’s feelings towards him, the life he’d been fortunate enough to share with him for so many years, too _few_ years, and Carl, he had…  
  
He’d _framed_ it.  
  
And the invoice tucked into the corner had the order dated as November 7 th: Barely a day and a half after what had happened with Leo.  
  
Carl had always…  
  
Carl had _always_ …  
  
The floodgates opened.  
  
Markus made a wounded sound, crumpled to the floor, and started _howling_.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 98%]**  
**  
[WARNING: STRESS LEVEL CRITICAL, OVERLOADING]**  
  
He couldn’t do it. He could get shot, stabbed, called every name in the book, harassed, worked to the goddamn bone, but he couldn’t do this. Coming to a point where he could have celebrated life with Carl, celebrated the fact that they’d been fortunate enough to have each other and the relationship that they’d shared, only to have it end so abruptly- Markus couldn’t do it. It was asking too much.  
  
So he lay on the floor and screamed.  
  
Eventually Simon came, helped him up, led him to his room.  
  
And then he slept the sleep of the dead.  
   
[---]  
   
It was early evening when Markus woke up.  
  
He was lying on his stomach, and found himself awkwardly intertwined with Simon: Simon’s head was on his upper back, their legs were tangled together, and Simon’s right arm was half-pinned under Markus’s torso (how had that even happened?). Markus’s cheeks were still damp with tears, and it didn’t take very long to remember why it was that he was so distraught.  
  
How could he be alive when Carl was not?  
  
How could, after being shot, left for dead, falling off that bridge in Jericho, getting shot three more times at the march, then the protest, and then being cornered by gun-wielding humans, could Markus be alive when Carl was not?  
  
Carefully, Markus disentangled himself from Simon. Thankfully, the other android slept deeper than most, and he didn’t stir. Markus ran a quick check on himself:  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 65%]**  
  
Markus sighed. It was better than nothing, but not the greatest sign; he’d been powered-down for most of the day, and he was still in yellow-territory stress-wise. Simon had been right, he’d overloaded from the overwhelming nature of his emotions, from his anxiety, and he’d probably fried his system a bit.  
  
He left Simon asleep on the bed, and went to Carl’s room.  
  
Markus didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Carl wasn’t going to magically reappear in his room any more than he would in the studio. He was gone now, never coming back, and the reality of that still hadn’t fully hit yet, probably wouldn’t until Markus had had some time to get used to the idea.  
  
He wasn’t sure it ever would, not completely.  
  
Markus wandered around the room, examining the little knick-knacks, the paintings, the organized chaos of his desk and bookshelves. He saw papers with Carl’s handwriting scrawled across it, and smiled weakly as he scanned over the lines and recognized Carl’s voice in them. He’d put a bit of himself into everything he’d done, everything he’d taken seriously; that was what made being in the house so hard, because there wasn’t a single place in the house that didn’t have Carl’s spirit in it, didn’t have a piece of him there to remind Markus so starkly of his absence.  
  
When he sat on the bed, it felt wrong that Carl wasn’t there already, felt wrong that he wasn’t hunting for the syringe to give Carl his medicine and fielding those grumpy comments about how he didn’t need his damn medicine. For a moment Markus shut his eyes, but this time he tried to imagine something he’d very much seen before: He tried to pretend that everything was normal, that Carl was asleep in bed and that Markus was waiting for him to wake up. He tried to pretend that Carl was still there with him instead of gone.  
  
The sound of the door opening startled him, but Markus didn’t open his eyes.  
  
Simon sat down on the bed beside him, an arm encircling his waist.  
  
“I spent more time in here than my room,” Markus muttered, slowly opening his eyes again. “I didn’t see the point in having one, at first, beyond humoring Carl. And sometimes Carl didn’t have it in him to get up and paint, so I’d stay in here and we’d play chess, or read, or watch TV, or…” He gave a lifeless little shrug. “…or whatever.” Markus rubbed the blanket between his fingers, and Simon squeezed his shoulder. It still hurt, still hurt terribly, but now at least the pain had receded enough that he wasn’t breaking down in tears at the mere mention of Carl’s name.  
  
“You scared me,” Simon whispered. “I’ve never seen you lose it like that.”  
  
Markus leaned into him, setting his head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” They stayed like that for a while, Markus feeling the subtle workings of Simon’s body through his skin and casing, the beating of his heart, the thrumming of blood through his veins, the vibrations of his motors and servos.  
  
“Markus,” Simon said quietly, lips brushing Markus’s scalp, “I think you need to take a break.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Exactly what I said: You need to take a break. You’ve been running yourself ragged for the last month and a half. You’ve been badly damaged and glued back together far too many times, you’ve gotten death-threats, you’ve barely been powering-down, and you’ve been stressed the whole while. You need maintenance, and you need rest.”  
  
“Simon-”  
  
“Josh, North, and the others can handle Jericho. I can pop in every now and then and check on them. The android leaders in the rest of the country can handle the political wrangling. _You_ need to spend some time calming down and making sure you’re not hurting yourself. You need time to grieve Carl properly before jumping back into the middle of things. Please, Markus, I’m worried about you.”  
  
Markus sighed. He just didn’t have it in him to argue, but especially not with Simon. “Alright,” he muttered. “I’ll take a break.”  
  
“Thank you.” Simon kissed his head. “You should power-down again. I can tell your stress-level’s still high, you’re way too hot.”  
  
“Can we stay here?” Markus asked weakly. “I just… I want to be in here for a while.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They rearranged themselves, lying down on the bed, and Markus could smell Carl’s cologne in the sheets. His heart _hurt._  
  
Simon’s arms curled around him, pulled him close, and Markus mashed his face into his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart right against his forehead. Simon’s fingers pressed nice, soothing circles into his back.  
  
“Rest, Markus. It’s okay.”  
  
It wasn’t.  
  
But Markus rested anyways.  
   
-End

**Author's Note:**

> be real, y'all hate me now.
> 
> Had to pick the saddest scenario I could think of short of someone strangling a puppy, and then I had to take the saddest father-son song I could think of ("Father & Son", by Cat Stevens, it's the one that plays during the funeral at the end of Guardians of the Galaxy 2) and make it the title, and oh look, I'm a mess and you can all join in my misery.
> 
> ( _I'M SO SORRY_ )


End file.
